Before Breakfast
by MrsSparrowDarcy
Summary: Agent Romanov has been having strange dreams lately, and despite her best efforts they haven't been getting much better -well, depending on how you define "better." Loki/Natasha
1. Chapter 1

**Here's a little oneshot of Loki/Natasha I randomly thought up- hope you guys like it! **

**Disclaimer: I definitely do not own the Avengers- or Loki… **

A floorboard creaked in the darkness behind her slowly and quietly, but she moved not a muscle. She ran through a dozen plausible scenarios in her mind in a moment and waited for the right opportunity to strike. The shadow would have been invisible to anyone else, but to Natasha Romanov it was as obvious as cloud on a sunny day. She could practically _feel_ the anger rolling off of him in waves; as they washed over her, her heart began to pick up its pace ever so slightly. Fear? She thought suddenly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that. Before her thoughts could wander any further, the shadow jerked towards her from behind, and a cold hand gripped her shoulder painfully tightly. With one fluid movement she grabbed the hand, twisted forwards and flung him onto his back.

"Loki," she stated, matter-of-factly. Loki grinned slightly, but otherwise said nothing. "Silent as usual? Fine."

She grabbed for the knife in her boot but the god kicked her feet out from under her, forcing her to backflip out of reach. He pushed himself up and walked towards her with a glint in his dark green eyes. Fumbling slightly, she pulled the stiletto knife out of her boot finally and brandished it with a warning for him to stay back. He didn't spare a single glance at the weapon in her hand as he quickened his pace. She dodged at the last moment and slipped behind him, swiftly shoving the stiletto between his ribs and pushing him to the ground with the heel of her boot.

He rolled to his uninjured side with a wince, but the slight look of contempt mixed with amusement and promise still remained as he stared wordlessly into her eyes. He swiftly pulled her leg out from under her, forcing her to the ground as well, as he pinned her to the ground, stopping her from slipping the dagger across his throat. "Not tonight, Agent Romanov…" he whispered in a gravelly voice that sounded so unlike the smooth tones she remembered.

Suddenly, she was in her bed once more, panting as though she really had just been in a fight with an immortal. Reaching for the glass of water on the night stand, she raked a shaky hand through the scarlet curls that had plastered themselves to her face in the night. Her thighs were wet and a deep ache was burning at her core.

The dreams had begun after Loki's capture and subsequent imprisonment in Asgard; something about that look he had given her right before he'd been taken away had shaken her deeply. It was almost as though he'd been trying to tell her something- a warning? A threat? His eyes were always the same in the dreams, but he had never spoken until tonight. The dreams had started out innocently enough- with her killing him in inventive ways- but they had gotten more and more realistic; until she could hardly tell when she was awake and when she was asleep. And lately there had been a sexual undertone that she could neither understand nor ignore.

Barton had begun to suspect something as well, but she couldn't let S.H.I.E.L.D. find out that she was having dreams about the man who had nearly killed them all, so she accepted an assignment in St. Petersburg–hoping against hope that the dreams would abate on their own. They hadn't.

Her cellphone beeped quietly to alert her of a call. It was probably Nick Fury checking in again, she thought as she swung her legs off of the bed, ignoring the numbing cold of the tiles on her bare feet. The man wouldn't let her off of his radar for a minute, as if in that minute she could easily return to the gruesome occupation she had been doing before she'd been recruited by him.

"Romanov here," she answered without a trace of the exasperation that was simmering below the surface.

"Romanov, I need you in New York; there's been a series of anonymous attacks on the subway system that I need you to look into."

"And what about Nikolas Rostad?"

"I hate to pull you away from a mission, Agent but you've been there a month and no progress. Besides, I'd put the Captain on it but we both know he's no detective."

Natasha fumed silently as she fought to keep her tone neutral in her reply. "With all due respect Sir, there has been progress, but Mr. Rostad is not a trusting man. However, I fully expect to have the details on the weapons silo within the week."

Fury was silent for a minute. "Alright, you've got a week, but I expect to see you in New York by this time next Tuesday," and with that the call ended.

Natasha dressed quickly and began to clean her weapons. She paused for a moment and considered her reflection in the gleaming surface of her .22 pistol; Fury was right, it had taken far too long for her to collect the info from Rostad. She hadn't been lying about his tight-lipped nature, but if she was being honest with herself, she could have gotten the plans out of him in a day if she'd wanted. She was just stalling.

Stalling for what? She had no idea, but there was no way she could go back to headquarters like this. The thought of _him_ popped into her head far more than it should, and not all of her thoughts were antagonistic. She'd caught herself daydreaming about his lips and his hands, and how wonderful they would feel on her bare skin before she'd caught herself and cleared her mind. But even meditation didn't seem to work anymore; he was seeping into her subconscious.

She focused her thoughts back towards the repetitive task of cleaning her knives, and tried desperately to ignore the thrill that had welled up in the pit of her stomach when she thought about his eyes gleaming at her in the dark as he pinned her to the concrete floor.

"Arghh!" she growled as she threw a knife across the room in frustration. The metal thrummed softly as it lodged itself in the eye of a painted politician. 'Great' she thought sourly, now she'd have to explain the damaged painting to Rostad's staff. The man thought she was the heiress of a Russian oil magnate, so perhaps a temper tantrum or two wouldn't be out of character- but the overlying problem of her incorrigible thoughts had to be solved.

"You missed me," a smooth voice stated plainly from behind her. Before she spun around, she knew exactly who it was- when had she fallen asleep? she wondered.

"I won't miss this time, Loki," Natasha growled as she palmed another knife and whirled around to face him.

He stood smirking at her from the glass table in the kitchenette, dressed in a typical Russian outfit comprised of a large overcoat with a green scarf poking through the folds and shiny dress shoes under well-fitting gray trousers. She forced her thoughts away from his clothing and hurled another knife in his direction. The blade passed cleanly through his forehead as his image wavered and disappeared.

"Missed again," a soft breath brushed against her ear. Before she could move, his arm had encircled her body and a sharp object jutted painfully against her throat. "I think we both know how this is going to end Agent Romanov". As he pulled away, a cold band of ice wrapped around her arms and chest.

"With you dead," she replied matter-of-factly. To her surprise, he began to laugh, a clear, harmonious sound which completely took her by surprise.

"Right!" he chuckled with a gleeful look on his face, "you still think you're dreaming!" Natasha stared at the man in concern; her dreams were getting unmanageably difficult, and if it continued she would have to tell Fury.

"Let me rid you of your reservations- this is not a dream and I could very easily kill you," with that he raked the knife that she had thrown earlier across her shoulder, drawing a thin ribbon of blood across her skin. "I've been biding my time, gaining strength and power; and finally –with your help –I've managed to escape!"

"What do you mean, 'my help'?" she asked with the least possible amount of interest she could muster.

"Come now Agent Romanov, as handsome as I am, surely you didn't think _all_ of those dreams were of your own doing?" he smiled slyly as he circled around to face her.

Natasha stared uncertainly at Loki, had _he_ been the cause of her endless dreams?

"why me?" she asked, "what do you want from me?"

Loki smiled and turned to face her, "because, my little spider, you and I _understand_ one another." A chill ran down her spine, and she suddenly realized how cold the ice around her was.

"As for what I want from you, that is very simple; just information." She stared mutely at him, hoping that he wouldn't be able to hear how quickly her heart was beating, and he continued. "Stark is building something which I require access to- tell me where it is and you'll have what you desire."

"And, what is that?" she asked lowly.

"A fresh start Agent Romanov! A new identity, a new name –a new face if you require it!" he replied quickly, "_or_," he said suddenly, locking his dark eyes onto her own, "I could convince Agent Fury to forget all about you; I can be _very_ convincing when I want to."

"So, let me get this straight; you've been sneaking into my dreams for months now in order to build up the strength to use them as a portal to our world?"

He smirked and began to circle around her and describe the merits of working for him rather than the Avengers, but she found herself unable to concentrate on his words when the sight of him pacing purposefully about the small room with his long-legged stride made her heart flutter abnormally. She halfheartedly fidgeted with the ice bindings, but a part of her –a large part of her- wanted the moment to last longer.

Natasha colored slightly and struggled to maintain her composure as images of his smooth, flawless hands gliding across her exposed neck, caressing her breasts and gripping her dark red hair flooded into her mind.

"I don't think a new identity will do me much good once you've destroyed the planet," she spat.

"I was never going to _destroy_ _the planet_," he replied, aghast at her implication, "but that is in the past, and trust me when I say that I have no more interest in this puny rock; my sights are much higher now."

"Forget it Loki, I've been on that side before, and I'm never going back. If you stop this now, I'll recommend that Fury take your cooperation into consideration," she bit out with much more confidence than she felt.

Loki paused his pacing to regard her perfectly schooled demeanor. Something about the way he was looking at her implied that the cracks in her armor were beginning to show.

"Why, Agent Romanoff…" he started towards her slowly, "I do believe you're trembling…"

Natasha quickly relaxed her muscles and maintained her composure, but kept her mouth shut because she didn't trust herself to speak.

"Come now Agent," he whispered silkily into her ear as he stopped only inches away from her face, "I could hear your heart beating from across the room. Don't tell me you're _afraid_."

Natasha knew there was no point in denying his claims; it wasn't fear that had her worked up, but there was no way she would admit the truth to the man in front of her. Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough to control her impulses when a slight breath tickled her ear and her breath caught in her throat. Loki stepped back a few paces and regarded her with confusion and interest, as though seeing her for the first time. Natasha bit back a curse as she realized what he had probably begun to realize and focused her energy on her next move.

Swiftly she kicked his feet out from under him, and landed with her full weight on the band of ice, shattering it to pieces. Loki regained his balance faster than she had anticipated and descended upon her as she forced herself out of her daze. She rolled out of the way as he lunged for her and jumped to her feet, pulling out the knife she'd pierced the painting with and bringing it to his neck as she forced him to the ground.

Loki splayed his palms in a sign of defeat, but that damned smirk that haunted her dreams still laced his lips.

"It's over Loki, I could open your throat in a second and not even your magic could save you then."

"Oh, _I know_ my little spider. So often you've dreamed of it," he replied casually, "but I can't help but wonder if you'd have dreamed something different if I hadn't interfered so often…"

Natasha willed her face not to flush, but today just didn't seem to be her day.

"Don't you ever wonder, _Natasha_," he said as his voice dropped to a husky whisper as he glanced up at her through dark lashes with his luminescent green eyes," what it would be like to-"

Before she knew what she was doing, the knife had clattered uselessly to the floor as her hands wound themselves in his long, dark hair and her lips pressed themselves hungrily against his. His arms wrapped around her quickly and his knee forced itself between her legs. She bit her lip as she ground herself shamelessly against him.

Loki let out a slight hiss and pulled her more tightly against him as he slipped one hand under her shirt as the other tightly clutched her raven locks. The god of mischief made quick work of the thin sleepwear as he tore it from her eagerly like gift wrap from a present.

Suddenly, a loud banging echoed from the hallway, and a gruff, impatient voice called from the door, "Miss Ivanya? I'm here to remind you of the breakfast you have scheduled with Mr. Rostad in thirty minutes. Please be ready to leave in fifteen; Mr. Rostad does _not_ like to be kept waiting."

Natasha cursed angrily under her breath- how could she have forgotten about the meeting with Rostad? Then a pair of mischievous emerald eyes reminded how exactly how she had forgotten. "Late for a date, my little spider?" he purred mockingly into her ear, still clutching her naked body against his.

"I –I have to leave Loki."

"Don't worry, I know you'll miss me." And with that, she was alone in the room once more.

**So, what'd you guys think? I'm not sure I want to write more for this- I kind of like the little snapshot of them that I captured. I might be induced to continue if I gain some sort of inspiration. Comment please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Back by popular demand! Sorry If this doesn't live up to your standards- I'm new at this kind of writing! Thanks to everyone that reviewed, all of your support really spurred me on. I think I have a fuzzy idea of where this is going now, and I just hope I find time to finish it. This chapter is extra, super-duper long because I may not find time to write for a while, but I **_**promise**_ **I will post more if people want me to!**

**Special thanks to Aminiojules for the very first review –I always try my bestest to keep all of my characters in character, so it really warmed the cockles of my heart to hear you say that! :D **

**Anyways, here's some more Natasha/Loki goodness (it comes later in the chapter, but it's worth it you guys, trust me). Let me know what you think!**

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The dusky pink clouds stained the icy water with flecks of rosy gold as the sun slowly dipped lower and lower into the horizon. The Black Widow sighed slightly and tilted the flute of expensive champagne back towards her dark cherry lips, pulled the white fox-fur coat tighter around her shoulders and leaned listlessly upon the gleaming railing of Mr. Rostad's newly-launched yacht.

The man himself sat across from her, much too engrossed in what he was saying to pay much mind to her obvious lack of interest in the conversation. The day had been a long one, but she had acquired all but the most sensitive information that she had been after, so it had also been a productive one. She had christened Rostad's new yacht that afternoon, and he had spent the rest of the evening bragging about his illegal arms export business, hoping to entice her into selling him oil for cheap. She had played along thus far as a naive and star-struck young heiress who had suddenly come into possession of her late father's company. Her 'father' had been difficult to talk into faking his death, but she had a way with words… and weapons.

"-So I told Anatoly that if he wanted to continue to do business with me, he would have to change his tune -change it by precisely €50, 000!" he cackled gleefully at his own joke. Natasha offered a halfhearted giggle and a wide-eyed look of admiration to complete the appearance. Rostad gave her a shark-toothed grin and ran his immaculate fingers through his thinning blonde hair. It had only been two days since Fury had given her the Tuesday deadline and she was just hours away from completing the task. Perhaps, she thought wistfully for a minute, she could spend the rest of the week sipping mojitos in Bora Bora before returning to New York. Fury would never have to know.

Speaking of things Fury didn't know, she thought suddenly, she still hadn't told him about her encounter with Loki. Natasha was half convinced it had all been another dream, but she hadn't had a dream since then, and it had begun to concern her. Not that she wanted the dreams back, but to not be able to tell dreams from reality was a loss of control that she couldn't live with. And what would telling Fury accomplish anyways? She would have to tell him about Loki's offer, and Fury didn't trust her much already, that would only add flame to the fire. Besides, she reasoned, if Loki did start trouble, he wouldn't be silent about it for long.

"What are you thinking about my little Tzarina?" Rostad's voice broke into her thoughts suddenly, "Do you have any idea how sweet you look when you start thinking?" he asked as he pulled her hand into his own.

Natasha giggled once more and added a blush for effect. "I was just thinking how nice it will be when we sail to France next week!" she replied in her best Russian accent. Rostad might have lived and worked in Russia for over a decade, but his Russian was terrible and he hated being reminded of it.

"By the way," he started as he pulled his hand away from hers to take a sip of scotch, "the housekeeper tells me that you damaged a painting yesterday?"

"It was so ugly!" Natasha moaned, "I was having nightmares about it being in the hallway all night. _Besides_, you said you would put me in a _pretty_ room!" she pouted and looked dolefully up at him.

Rostad grimaced slightly, "that _ugly_ painting was of my great grandfather!" he snapped, "we don't have rooms decorated with pink kittens and pansies if that's what you're after!"

"Your great grandfather?" Natasha repeated with a sight look of confusion, as she rose and walked towards him, "well, the apple has fallen far from its tree I think." She walked behind him and began to massage his shoulders slowly. Rostad's anger faded quickly and he chuckled as he let his head drop towards his chest and allowed her fingers to work their magic.

The Captain came in to announce that they had returned to the dock and Rostad invited Natasha for a nightcap in his private apartments after peevishly dismissing the man.

"Oh, certainly Mr. Rostad, I would love to discuss further this business deal! But I would like to freshen up before we do so." she replied with every ounce of enthusiasm that she didn't feel.

"Please, call me Nikolas," he insisted as he helped her from the boat and flashed her what he must have thought to be a charming smile.

She quickly made her escape and returned to the suite she had been inhabiting for the past month. Rostad wouldn't be expecting her for another hour or so; he would assume that she'd be primping and fussing like any other woman. Natasha Romanov wasn't just any woman however, and the daggers she began pulling from their hiding-places were evidence enough of that. She had managed to discover Rostad's personal gun cache in his room already, so she knew she'd be safe if she needed to make use of it.

Natasha pulled a sleek black dress from her closet and slipped it on, taking care to add a knife to her garter belt, but deciding that excess precaution was unnecessary. Nikolas Rostad wasn't a man to be toyed with around his goons, but once she had him alone he would be at her mercy. She smirked as she added a dab of lipstick and perfume to complete the look.

Now, she thought, she could finally catch up on some reading. Being out all day with that odious bore had begun to take a toll on her IQ. She swiped a couple of newspapers from the breakfast table and lounged on the comfortable bed whilst skimming the headlines for anything important. The subway attacks that Fury had been talking about were being blamed on Eastern terrorists, but Natasha had long since realized that 'terrorist' was really a code word for 'we don't know' or 'we don't want to tell you.' The tracks of the subway, it seemed, had been corroded by some unknown chemical substance and workers were estimating closures of up to five months. The rest of the article was inane verbal abuse about government inefficiencies so she threw it aside and picked up a Russian paper.

Her reading was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door, followed by a muffled entreaty for her to open it. Rostad, she thought, sighing and putting aside the article about Putin's latest publicity stunt. She opened the door and put on her best 'surprised' face when she saw him. "Mr. Rostad! I thought I was to come to you?" Rostad smirked and held her chin with his left hand while he leaned heavily upon the door frame with his right.

"I didn't think I could wait much longer to finish our conversation –I'm sure you know, I'm not a patient man." He seemed much more intoxicated than he had on the ship and the alcohol on his breath made her cringe inwardly, but she put on a bright smile and allowed him inside none the less. This would be even better than his room, now she had her entire arsenal to play with.

"May I offer you a drink Mr. Rostad?" she asked peppily, holding up a decanter of wine that a servant had brought up earlier.

"You can offer me a lot of things, I think" he replied with a drunken leer. Natasha smiled pleasantly and poured out two glasses of the dark liquid. She handed him a glass and set her own down on the table, regarding him suspiciously; why had he felt the need to get stinking drunk when he knew he'd have company? It seemed out of character for someone who was normally a very calculating businessman.

"Ivanya," he said suddenly, pulling her towards the bed, "let's not waste precious time." He grinned and began to sloppily paw at her. This was the part she hated the most, but sometimes it had to be done, and at the very least, she wouldn't have to go through with all of it, judging by his state, she'd just have to get him worked up enough to spill the beans. She stealthily hid the garter dagger beneath the mattress and allowed him to unzip the dress as she straddled him.

Suddenly, his expression changed completely. Gone was the drunken stupor, and gone were his messy kisses. He grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over so he was the one straddling her. His wispy blond hair turned thick and black; his tanned and creased face turned smooth, angular and cold. She was staring at Loki. "Miss me?" he asked humorlessly.

She pushed the shock from her features quickly and matched his glare with her apathy. "Can't say I particularly did," she pulled the knife from its hiding place and slashed at his shoulder, causing him to pull away for a moment and giving her time to retreat to the other end of the room. "What are you doing here Loki, you can obviously see that I'm busy."

"Busy?" he spat as he rose from the bed to his intimidating height, "busy whoring yourself out to wealthy criminals?"

Natasha winced slightly at the cruel barb. "I'm a spy Loki. Sometimes the job gets messy. Besides, you don't know what I was going to do- I had a plan!"

"So this is what Fury makes you do? Work as his prostitute?"

"It is none of Fury's business how I get the job done so long as no innocents are hurt," Natasha ground out angrily.

"Come with me, and I promise you'll never have to do this again." Loki's eyes softened a little as he spoke.

"With you?" she asked incredulously, "First off, I don't know where Tony keeps his toys, so I'm no use to you anyways. And second off, I think I made it clear the first time that I have no interest in your schemes. You spoke about the 'red on my ledger' when we were in New York, I don't think that being the cause of another planet's subjugation will wipe that clean."

"Subjugation? My people will welcome me with open arms once they see what I have to offer!"

Natasha's expression of humiliated anger melted away to reveal one of mild disinterest. "So, you're after Jotunheim this time?"

Loki's face froze for a moment as he regarded her with sparkling green eyes. "My, my Agent Romanov –that is the second time you've tricked me. Two more times than anyone else I have ever met." He casually strode closer towards her, ignoring the blade she brandished warningly.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking that this is the only weapon I have at my disposal," she answered as her body tensed for a fight.

"I don't make those kinds of mistakes Agent Romanov. But answer me this;" he said with stride unbroken, "why, I wonder, have you not yet told Director Fury about our meeting?"

"If that's what you think, then you've lost already," she lied smoothly.

Loki chuckled lightly as he stopped just short of the tip of her blade, "you may have a knack for getting me to say more than I should, but you're not _that_ good of a liar. Tell me Natasha," he crooned, "have you thought about it? Fury doesn't trust you, the rest of them are intimidated by you. Even our dear Agent Barton doesn't really understand you –he still looks at you with that lost puppy look that makes you want to vomit, doesn't he?" he asked slowly as he pressed closer towards her, seemingly oblivious to the dagger that was beginning to pierce the dark leather armor he wore. For a moment, Natasha let her guard down as his words struck several chords within her, but regretted it in the next moment when her knife left her hands and the god of mischief had her wrists pinned to the wall behind her.

"Let me go Loki. Rostad will be here any minute to check what happened to me, and if he finds you… I hope you're good at dodging machine gun fire."

Loki simply tsked and shook his head at her words. "Now, now, Agent Romanov. You can't _always _have it your way. Besides, I've already met with our _dear_ Mr. Rostad earlier this evening; _such_ _a charmer_," he added sarcastically.

"Loki…" she growled lowly, "_what_ have you done with him?"

"Nothing terrible. But I dare say he may be late for breakfast tomorrow, unless he's a fan of trekking across the Siberian wastes in January. Don't worry," he added before she could reply, "I made sure the village I took him to had electricity –a few times a month."

Natasha did her best to control the rage she felt bubble up at the sight of his self-satisfied smirk.

"How could you _do_ that?! I _needed _him" she yelled in frustration, "_S.H.E.I.L.D_ needed him!" she corrected herself quickly.

Loki's smirk slid off of his face in an instant, and his grip around her wrists began to cut off blood flow. "It seems I have underestimated just how much you enjoy your work."

"Don't tell me you're jealous Loki," she retorted with an exaggeratedly lusty expression on her face.

"Jealous?" he laughed, "of that bottom-feeding mortal? I'm more powerful now than I ever was Agent Romanov. I could have you here and now in so _many_ different ways," he murmured suggestively as he lowered his head to her right ear and his hot breath whispered lightly over her skin. Natasha fought to keep her breathing even but her attempt was half-hearted at best; he was the only one who had ever matched her at that skill.

"More powerful?" she repeated, struggling to keep the huskiness out of her voice, "are you talking about your new 'teleportation' skills?"

"Good of you to notice Natasha," he mumbled against the delicate skin of her neck, "captivity allowed me plenty of time to hone my skills. Now, I think, is the time to put them to use." He pulled his head back and stared at her with dark, feral eyes. Slowly he dropped his gaze to her lips and lingered for a moment and she felt herself coming undone. "No one will get hurt, unless they interfere," he promised solemnly, "and once I have the throne I was born to occupy, you can have _anything_ you desire in these nine realms."

The time for lucid thought had passed, and Natasha found herself straining against his hands to get closer to him. Her legs wound themselves around his waist and her lips fought for purchase upon his pale skin. Her breath came out in desperate gasps as he released her wrists and wound his hands through her fiery hair and carried her smoothly back onto the bed. His surprisingly soft lips found her own and he explored the recesses of her mouth with an adventurous tongue as he gently slid one hand up her belly and teasingly let it linger just below her breasts. She moaned in frustration and pulled him more tightly against herself with her legs as she dug her fingernails into his strong, hard shoulders. She pulled urgently at the clasps on his clothing and felt his lips curl into a grin against the base of her neck.

"Patience, my little spider," he chuckled melodiously as he lightly grazed her collarbone with his lips and slid his free hand up her thigh. Natasha ground her teeth and glared impetuously at his wide grin and sparkling eyes. "Can I take this as an acceptance of my offer?" he queried as he lightly lapped at her nipple.

Her eyes flew open with shock and electricity buzzed through her fingers and toes at his touch. "You can't ask me that now," she gasped out breathlessly as she arched into his mouth.

"On the contrary my darling, I can, and I think I will." He lifted his wonderful lips from her breasts and licked them slowly while inching his hand further up her quaking thighs. Natasha couldn't understand how he had hardly touched her and yet she was already so close.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to formulate a coherent, logical reply, but all that came out was a tortured, "ooh, yes!"

Loki smiled wickedly at her obvious distress before finally gliding his thumb between her aching folds and rubbing in slow, controlled circles while lightly nipping at her neck. She finally managed to tear through the stubborn bindings of his jerkin and reveled in the lean, muscular torso against her bare skin. He whispered into her ear in a mysterious language as he touched her, and while she had no idea what he was saying, she somehow knew exactly what he meant. She orgasmed harder than she could have previously imagined and the world floated away from her for an unknown amount of time as she rode the aftershocks mindlessly.

When Natasha finally came to, Loki was shirtlessly lounging against the headboard with a Russian paper in his hands and a slight grin on his lips. "Finally awake Agent Romanov?" he asked casually while setting aside the paper and focusing his gleaming eyes upon her scowling face. "Have I offended you? And here I thought we were getting along so_ well." _

Natasha was annoyed at his seeming calm after what they had just done; she _still_ hadn't managed to wipe that smirk off of his face. '_Next time,_' an unwelcome voice echoed in her head.

"We're not friends Loki," she bit out evenly.

"Well, I'm sure we can remedy that situation with time," he said pulling on a magically mended shirt. "We're partners now." He flashed her a dazzling smile as he nimbly tied the straps and hid his toned torso from view.

"If I agree to help you, you have to help me."

Loki quirked an eyebrow at her with an interested expression.

"_If_ Rostad is still alive, he won't be of any use to us now." she continued, "but if you play along, we may not need him after all."

Loki contemplated her offer.

"I'm listening," he replied evenly.

"He was planning on hosting a gala event next month with all of the major players. That was when we were going to confirm the details of his enterprise and catch some of those other bastards in the act. If you can play the part until then, I can take care of all the details."

He was silent for a minute and completely still as he gazed out through the bay windows onto the moonlit waves below. "Why not?" he burst out suddenly, spinning around with a gleeful look on his face, "It should be great sport!"

Natasha let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding but kept her expression entirely unsurprised. "I have to return to New York next week, and when that happens you'll have to be careful about contacting me; I'll be staying at the Stark Tower."

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship Natasha," Loki smiled charmingly as he pulled her hand to his lips and feathered it with a kiss.

"Maybe it is," she purred as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. Before he could react, she placed a chaste kiss onto his lips and released his hand. Loki narrowed his eyes for a moment before breaking out into a small grin and straightening himself.

"Until next time, my little spider." He gave her a mock bow and disappeared, leaving the room much emptier than it had been before he had arrived. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

**So, what did you guys think? I hope I didn't ruin that last scene with my inept writing- like I said, first time with something like this! Constructive criticism is **_**very**_ **welcome. Hope everyone enjoyed it- review please! ^_^ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter up! Thanks so much for the feedback guys, it means a lot! **

**(Especially you, Queen Supernatural –that was the sweetest thing I've ever been called, I'm grinning like a madwoman right now!)**

**I wanted to address a couple of things right away so there's no confusion- I changed the spelling of Natasha's surname name to 'Romanov' because in the comics it's spelled 'Romanova' and I just like it better. So yea… Actually I forgot the other thing, so I guess we'll just leave it at that for now. Enjoy!**

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Natasha cursed loudly and angrily –in her head. Her face however, showed no trace of the tumultuous emotions that boiled within her.

Loki was late, again.

It was the second client meeting he had been late to and the third that he had skipped out on all together. She hoped he was simply late and not absent; as little as she cared about Rostad's business going to hell, she needed the engine to work until the gala next month or all of her work would be for naught.

She batted her eyes prettily at the sweaty, balding man before her, but even her charms would not hold him much longer. He knew her as Rostad's new fiancé and business partner, but his smiles and compliments did little to hide the suspicion and unease that she could easily read on his face.

What could Loki possibly be doing that was more important than this? Sucking up to Thor or Odin? She barely managed to hide her smirk behind her wine glass at the thought.

"Mr. Danton, I wonder if you would be interested to learn more about my and Mr. Rostad's new fleet of luxury liners?" The sweaty man turned his pale eyes nervously away from his smart phone and towards her face, allowing them to slip down unsubtly to her cleavage.

"Of course Miss Pe- Pet-"

"Petroshka," she corrected smoothly, "but you may call me Ivanya." Natasha smiled kindly and refilled his glass. If Loki didn't make it, at least having the man drunk would be a blessing. As she poured the double doors to the conservatory burst open and Nikolas Rostad swaggered through, his blond hair catching the light and his wide grin unnerving them all.

"Mr. Danton!" he exclaimed with false enthusiasm as he strode towards him and clasped his hands in his own.

Natasha stifled the urge to roll her eyes; Loki was fond of hamming it up at these sorts of things to show his distaste for them. But a deal was a deal.

"What a pleasure it is to finally be able to do business! Ah, Ivanya," he sighed turning towards her with a slight gleam in his eyes, "my _sweetest_ butterfly. How extraordinarily tedious the hours have been without you!" He grabbed her quickly by the waist and pulled her into a sloppy, mocking kiss which earned him a heel to the foot and a strained smile.

"I have missed you as well my love, but I'm sure Mr. Danton will not wish to be kept waiting." With a final warning look and a farewell, she made her way back to her quarters.

…

As she stripped off her stiflingly tight dress in exchange for her training gear she thought once more about her decision to betray S.H.I.E.L.D . Loki had been right about her work with Fury; sure she was killing 'bad guys' now, but it still felt the same as when she'd been killing for the mob. There was almost always collateral damage, and even though Fury could ignore it, her conscience didn't have that luxury. This was all that she knew how to do, but Loki was offering her an out –an out which didn't involve bloodshed if they pulled it off properly.

He said he needed the Tesseract prototype Fury and Stark had been building in order to return to Asgard and free his imprisoned body. From there he claimed he would travel to Jotunheim to claim the throne his 'father' had vacated.

"Thor never paid attention in any of his lessons, but the tutors always hinted that Jotunheim was full of untapped riches just below the surface," he'd blurted excitedly, " I used your Midgardian devices to test these things for myself before I was caught."

"I learn quickly," he had added flippantly, noticing her look of surprise. "I can convince the Frost Giants to mine their wealth and set up trade with the other realms. Asgardians are vain and spoiled, they'll pay whatever price I set for the minerals that I've discovered; soon Jotunheim will be a hundred times wealthier than the so-called 'Golden Realm'".

She'd watched his face carefully for any signs of deceit, but seen only eagerness and excitement. She noticed the way he paced about the room, his tall stature silhouetted against the setting sun behind him, and tried her best to keep her thoughts from straying into unseemly territory when his graceful hands gestured smoothly as he spoke.

"And what makes you think that you'll be able to complete the Tessaract without Stark?"

He'd then flashed he a wicked grin that had made her knees go weak. "Because I've been following his work closely, and I have exactly what he's missing."

Natasha took the bait impatiently, "And what's that?"

His image disappeared in a soft haze as his voice whispered softly in her ear, "Magic."

...

The meeting had concluded earlier than she had anticipated, and Natasha found herself alone with the god of mischief once again.

"You seem surprised to see me," he stated with the mocking edge that never seemed to leave his voice.

"I was under the impression that Danton had quite a bit to discuss, otherwise I would have handled it alone."

"You're forgetting, about my knack for persuasion Agent Romanov," he replied as Rostad's ruddy face melted away into the pale, sharp planes of Loki's true image. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as she caught herself staring at the transformation and averted her gaze a little too quickly. "Anything the matter Agent Romanov? You seem a bit … flushed."

Natasha ignored his comment and the amusement in his eyes; that was an unwinnable subject, and she knew how to pick her battles.

"I'm leaving for New York first thing in the morning, but before I do, we need to talk."

Loki raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and seated himself at the glass table with an unnecessary flourish as would a king on his throne. She trained her eyes on his expectant face and away from his immodest posture, wondering faintly if he were doing it on purpose.

"Last time you wanted the Tessaract it was to call your army to earth; how do I know you won't do it again?"

Loki regarded her carefully before speaking.

"Why, Agent Romanov –are you saying you don't trust me?"

Natasha pursed her lips slightly.

"Not everything is a joke Loki. What will you do if I don't get you the location?"

The smile never left his face as he transformed into a perfect clone of Nick Fury.

"Then I suppose I will have to find another way."

Natasha frowned inwardly, but maintained her composure in front of what seemed to be her boss.

"I don't believe you," she stated plainly. "If you could do that then you wouldn't have bothered with all this," she said, gesturing vaguely at herself and the opulent room.

Loki transformed back into his normal self and watched her curiously, as though waiting for her to arrive at some conclusion.

"_I_ think you're weak._ I_ think that you can't maintain your magic for very long, and when you do it drains you," she stated evenly as she took measured steps towards him. "That's why you hardly show up for an hour at a time, especially when you have to use your powers." She stopped a few feet away from where he was seated and began to circle around. "So, I think I deserve a little more insurance than a pinky-promise."

Loki stayed silent for a minute.

"Forgive me, Agent Romanov," he began quietly, "I am unfamiliar with this term, 'pinky-promise.'"

Natasha gritted her teeth silently and began to open her mouth to speak before he cut her off. Loki stood and whirled around to face her, deftly closing the space between them with one stride before she could react and cornering her against the sliding glass doors.

"How is it that you were born a mortal," he murmured softy, "when you could best most of the gods I know?" He brought an elegant hand up to stroke her cheek. "You're correct in discovering my _temporary _limitations, but you still don't seem to understand my motivation. I'm not here to defeat Thor or show Odin –I am here because I am a _king without a crown_. And you, my little spider, are the one I want by my side when I have it."

Natasha's face froze, locking the god of mischief with a hard stare. Loki placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned a little closer to her flushed face, making Natasha wonder wildly where all of her years of training as a hardened assassin had gone to as her heart began to pick up its pace. She tried to find a clever response to his admission, but nothing came to her tongue except a willingness to taste his.

He smiled crookedly at her line of sight, causing her to pull her eyes away from his lips and focus instead on his glittering emerald eyes –which did nothing to alleviate her excitement. "You can rule by my side, as my equal in all respects," he whispered as he held her gaze unblinkingly, "there is _no one _in this realm who could ever hope to match you. There is no contest here Natasha, we both know what you want, all you have to do is say it."

Natasha's breaths had quickened along with her heart rate, and Loki was so close now that her exhales were stirring a few strands of his silky black hair. She wondered faintly if it were his lips moving closer to hers or the other way around, but when they met it didn't seem to matter. She brought her hands up to grip the expensive suit he still had on from the meeting and snaked one hand under his collar to feel the smooth skin of his neck. Loki in turn wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a bruising kiss.

"Wait!" Natasha gasped, pulling her lips away suddenly, "I need to be sure of what you're asking me."

Loki chuckled lowly and rested his forehead against hers. "I think you know very well what I'm asking –but if you need it in words then how can I refuse?" He pulled away from her and Natasha released him reluctantly. "Once I have control of Jotunheim, I want you to be my queen."

The Black Widow found herself, possibly for the first time, unable to meet the gaze of the man before her. "I –I need time to think about it," she stuttered as she tried desperately to collect her thoughts.

"Don't worry my little spider," Loki said, lifting her chin with a long slender finger, "I'm a patient man."

With that, Natasha found herself alone in the room once again.

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**So, what'd you guys think!? I know this one was light on the sexytimes but I don't want to rush them- they're a sensitive couple :P**


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